


Arguing Naked

by LadyMyfanwy



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 11:32:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12253566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMyfanwy/pseuds/LadyMyfanwy
Summary: Good advice is a gift that should not be wasted. Our beloved boys belong to the mighty Beeb!





	Arguing Naked

Whistling a jaunty tune, Doctor Owen Harper strolled across Roald Dahl Plass heading towards the water tower sculpture and below it, the paving stone hidden by a perception filter left many years before courtesy of a certain Time Lord’s TARDIS. As he disappeared behind the filter he pressed send on his mobile, activating the invisible lift’s mechanism. When Jack and Ianto had started living together in the Hub nearly full time, they had gotten so very tired of being woken at odd hours or worse, being interrupted at the most inopportune times, by the alarms connected to the cog door. As a result, Jack had had Toshiko rig up a computer link between the lift and the team’s mobile phones. The digital programme allowed any team member to trigger the lift by inputting a code to their phone and thus descend into the Hub almost as silently as the fog crept in over Cardiff Bay.

A quick glance at his watch showed Owen that he still had about five minutes before the alarm went off, reminding him it was time to change out the bag of glucose from the intravenous drip he’d set up to help feed the alien the team had recovered from a downed escape pod that morning. Injured in the crash, the petite lilac-coloured creature required the sugar-water solution to aid in his healing. 

Ianto had recognised the Wretizan from his time with Torchwood London; Yvonne Hartman had ordered one tortured for information because she believed he was the vanguard of an approaching invasion fleet. 

The fact that the fragile alien barely lasted three minutes before succumbing to Torchwood’s interrogation techniques should have made it clear to the Institute’s director that the Wretizan were physically incapable of invading bird’s nest, much less planet Earth. However, rather than admit she’d been wrong, Yvonne ordered everyone in the Canary Wharf Tower to believe that the creature had committed suicide rather than reveal vital military secrets. That unreasonable and quite idiotic command had raised more than a few eyebrows, but nobody dared protest; they were all too afraid of Yvonne’s infamous retribution.

Wretizans came from a planet whose landmasses were covered almost entirely by great forests of trees, wandering ivies and vines, bushes and shrubs, and vast meadows of flowers in every shape and colour, and the aliens relied on the same photosynthesis process of converting sunlight into energy that the plant life used for growth and reproduction. Ianto had found that bit of vital information in his own Archives and he had been able to steer Owen in the right direction.

Moving quietly across the Hub, Owen popped down to the medbay to collect his kit and a fresh bag of glucose and in another minute, he was at the alien’s bedside, changing out the IV and checking his patient for any signs of distress. He was pleased to see that the glucose was obviously helping to heal the Wretizan’s injuries, that his colour was much brighter and that his breathing seemed less laboured. ‘Score one for the Tea-Boy,’ he grinned as he entered the info on the chart hung at the foot of the bed. 

Satisfied that he could leave his patient to rest until he returned in the morning, Owen went back up to the medbay to retrieve his jacket and keys. He was intent on getting in at least one more round of drinks at his favourite bar before going home and if he was really lucky, he might even find someone there to share his bed.

The sound of stomping feet coming down the metal staircase from Jack’s office caught his ear and he mounted several steps up from the medbay so he could pop his head out, intent on saying, “Hi, sorry if I woke you.” He was surprised to see Ianto Jones, always so properly – even primly – dressed in a three-piece suit with crisply ironed shirt, complimentary tie and highly polished shoes, now wearing nothing more than a vest, boxers and socks. A bit nonplussed, Owen thought for a second about ducking down out of sight and later slipping out when Ianto had gone back to bed, but then he decided it was better to make himself known and get out as quickly as possible. However, before he could speak, he heard:

“Don’t you walk away from me, Ianto Harkness-Jones!”

Owen glanced upward to see his boss, the handsome and immortal Jack, standing on the upper landing just outside his office… stark naked.

Ianto looked up at his husband and stopped dead in his tracks. “Why haven’t you put your clothes back on, Jack?” he asked slowly.

“I heard somewhere that you can’t argue with your spouse when at least one of you is naked,” he huffed.

With a deep frown, Ianto considered this statement for a moment; for some reason there seemed to be a note of sanity in there somewhere but he just couldn’t quite pick it out.

“Cariad, where did you hear this?”

“Owen told me,” Jack answered smugly. “Said he’d heard it at that conference in Edinburgh he just came back from.”

“Owen…” Ianto repeated slowly. “You’re taking marital advice from Owen Harper, Mr Never-Shag-the-Same-Woman-Twice, Owen Harper, possibly the biggest womaniser in Cardiff?”

“Yep.” Jack proudly stood there in stereotypical hero pose, his hands on his hips, feet set apart and his head held high. The only thing missing was a big ‘S’ on his chest and a cape blowing behind him in the wind.

Even Owen had to admit that Jack really was a remarkable sight to behold, but it was the manly bits dangling between his legs that unintentionally caught the medic’s eye.

Striking a rather incongruous note was a bright red bow tied around Jack’s semi-erect penis.

Owen couldn’t stop himself – he burst out laughing at the spectacle before him, thus attracting the attention of both the other men.

“Owen!” Jack crowed with delight, completely unaware of what he was flaunting. “Tell Ianto what you told me!”

Ignoring the question in favour of one of his own, Owen finally managed to squeak out, “What the hell are you wearing?!” before laughter caught him again.

Ianto kicked the wastepaper bin closest to him, sending it sailing halfway across the floor, then before Jack could respond, the Welshman answered for him.

“He is wearing my brand new, bespoke tie, made from hand-woven and hand-dyed silk!” Ianto’s voice rose in volume with every word until the last one came out as an enraged shout.

“But it looks sexy, Yan!”

“Around my neck!” Ianto roared. “It looks sexy around my bloody neck!”

Shrieking with laughter Owen couldn’t contain himself; he lost his balance and tumbled down the medbay stairs to land in a heap on the floor, tears rolling down his cheeks.

With a loud and embarrassed huff, Jack stomped back into his office with as much dignity as he could muster, leaving Ianto to watch his pert arse disappear; he childishly slammed the door behind himself for emphasis.

Turning towards the medbay, the Welshman crossed the room and leaned over the railing to see Torchwood’s resident doctor clutching his stomach, still braying with hysterical laughter.

“Twpsyn,” he muttered before heading off to try and rescue his silk tie from Jack’s lovely penis.

end


End file.
